


Oh, Cliff!

by ColourShot



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Behavior, Future Vision, Gen, Maybe Rick will learn to be nice, Strange Dreams, Tags May Change, Temporary Character Death, canon-typical weirdness, may very loosely follow summer holiday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28351512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColourShot/pseuds/ColourShot
Summary: How the hell was the People's Poet meant to keep all his friends alive?It all felt frightfully unfair.OrRick is definitely not going completely potty and (what he hopes is) dreaming about him and his friends dying in a terrible bus crash in horrific detail…
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORD OKAY, this is my attempt at a longer fic, something I haven't done in absolutely forever. Hoping it doesn't turn out _completely_ terrible (and that I actually finish it). I'll definitely be adding tags to this fic as I go as I'm unsure of all the things it'll contain so bear with me there :'] 
> 
> This is a short first chapter, I kind of just wanted to get the general concept down first, then next one is longer I promise.  
> Also going to attempt to stay one chapter ahead (lets see how long that lasts). Anyway, I'll stop rambling now and let you read!

Rick’s head hurt. In fact _all_ of him hurt. What the bloody hell had happened? He only remembered flashes...that bus...OH GOD!- 

Rick sat up, much quicker than intended and than his body would allow. He paid the price for that, letting out a high pitched whine before fully taking in his surroundings. Fire was everywhere he looked, rubble taking up the rest of his surroundings. His eyes widened, processing it all. ‘ _Bloody, blummin, ruddy heck!_ ’ Rick coughed, feeling panic swell inside him as he tasted blood. He attempted to move his legs, realising that he could no longer feel them. He soon discovered that he was well and truly pinned underneath the remnants of what _was_ their escape bus.

“NEIL!” He called out, he’d picked the first name that sprung to mind. No answer came. “Neil?!” He cried again, beginning to feel desperate. God how he wished he would see that sulking figure of the hippie and then he could be reassured that things were okay - _that they were normal and he’d be rescued._

“Anyone?!” His throat was starting to hurt, every second that passed added to his panic. He was answered with only silence. He couldn’t have been the only one who survived the ruddy crash...could he? He swallowed the sob that tried to escape at that thought. He was beginning to feel faint, blood was pooling from his legs and everytime he coughed, he brought up a shockingly larger amount of blood. Along with whatever horrid shrapnel that was causing the bleeding in the first place. Rick felt utterly and truly stuck, his head was swimming. He couldn’t deal with this, _this was it_ , he was going to die here. The People’s Poet, killed in a bus crash...that wasn’t particularly revolutionary or brave. In fact, it didn’t feel like a fitting end to his life at all, he hadn’t managed to accomplish any of the things that he’d set out to do and-

Rick swallowed, guilt suddenly washing over him. Jesus, he was _still_ thinking about himself, even in his last moments when he was sure he was supposed to be having some kind of great epiphany. Or thinking about his very likely dead friends. _Oh god._ Rick felt an uncomfortably tight feeling pull at his chest and it wasn’t just the embedded debris. No, he was feeling a huge, worrying amount of grief. By Cliff! This felt worse than hearing about his parents dying...which he just remembered too. What he wouldn't give to see that orange haired punk looming over him right about now. Or Mike...or even Neil, with his stupid long hair that had probably been all burnt off by the crash. They could all have a fantastic laugh about that later - just as soon as someone _bloody well helped him!_ This was far too many feelings in such a short amount of time, he felt himself getting all lightheaded. He was sure he was going to pass out, though given his current situation, he wasn’t sure he’d ever come around again.

In fact he was pretty bloody sure of it!

_Oh dear-_

**

Rick awoke with a start, covered in sweat and shaking horribly. The first thing that hit him was the distinct lack of burning smell...and the absence of pain. In fact... 

Rick forced his eyes open, expecting to be greeted by the sight of blood and broken limbs. All that he saw was his dark and dingy (but mercifully familiar) bedroom. So it had been a dream. A bloody horrible, terrifyingly realistic dream. Far too realistic for his liking. Even as Rick swung his shaking legs over his bed and onto the ground, he couldn’t shake the chill that pricked the back of his neck just thinking about it.

Down in the kitchen, he still wasn't feeling much better. He was onto his second glass of water and that uneasy feeling hadn't left him. It was just a silly dream, a horrifyingly, gut churning, sickness inducing, dream. Why was he so upset over it? ‘ _Because even in your dream, you still spent a majority of your last moments thinking about yourself and being an utter prat._ ’ Rick really wished his conscience was quieter, it thundered so loud in his head that he almost worried it would wake up his housemates. Obviously it didn’t. He was thankful, he wasn’t sure if he could manage seeing any of them right now. Even thinking about that made Rick want to be violently ill.

It was safe to say that the poet didn’t sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW, well...there's that. I'm sufficiently nervous about making this public. I hope this idea is...somewhat interesting and I can do it justice! See you next chapter I suppose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick did wish his housemates would stop commenting on his apparent lack of sleep. The poet had more pressing matters to ponder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry for the wait with this chapter! I finished it a while back but held off on uploading until I was at least a little ways into chapter 3...anywayy, enjoy!!

It came as quite the shock to his housemates, to find Rick downstairs, awake at such an early hour. Neil had found him first (very regrettably as Rick was in a foul mood and Neil and Rick's foul moods didn't mix well at all). Rick was surprisingly subuded for a man who'd been walked in on in his dressing gown at whatever ungodly hour by his least favourite housemate, he only threw _one_ cup at Neil after all. It was quite fair actually. After telling Neil to piss off a few more times and succeeding in getting the hippie to leave him alone, he continued to contemplate the exact reason he hadn't been able to sleep. If Rick had been anymore aware of himself, he may have thought it was highly ironic of himself to be chasing away the very person that only a few hours ago, he would have been eternally grateful to have seen. But Rick was _not_ very aware of himself and so he didn’t think that. Besides, he had much more important things to agonise over. 

He wasn’t given much more time to agonise about said things before Neil rejoined him, not taking notice of how the poet yelled at him to leave. He continued on with making breakfast, only offering Rick the explanation that Vyvyan would have his head if he didn’t. _Ah yes._ Rick had almost forgotten about seeing Vyvyan today, the punk seemed to have a knack for telling when he wasn’t okay. Although it wouldn’t be hard to tell this time around, his bloodshot eyes and rather hunted look gave it away. The only reason Neil hadn’t asked was he feared the poet's wrath if he did.

Thankfully (or not, depending on how you looked at it), Neil and Rick weren’t alone for long. Vyvyan had begun his morning routine, something even the deepest sleepers in the sharehouse could tell from the terrifically loud banging that occurred anytime the punk woke up (Rick had regretted ever making a joke about those choice of words the one time Neil had ever mentioned it - he’d only gotten blank stares from Mike. Maybe “terrifically loud banging” wasn’t quite the amazing setup for a dirty joke that Rick had thought it was). A door slamming signified that Vyvyan had left his room and was headed downstairs. Rick swallowed and tried to make himself look less like a mess. He didn’t feel like being interrogated today. 

“Morning!” Vyvyan barked at Neil, stomping into the room and sitting down at the table - already starting his usual questioning about whether or not Neil had made breakfast. Vyvyan hadn’t bothered to extend his greeting to Rick and for once, Rick didn’t really care. The less interaction the better. It didn’t last awfully long though, as soon as Neil had reassured Vyv that he was most definitely working on breakfast. 

“ _Look right, it’s hard, Vyvyan. I, like, don’t exactly have many ingredients to work with and you told me if we had lentils again that you’d stick my head through a wall. Which I, like, don’t think is that fair, right? I do all the cooking around here….and the shopping too. So I guess you’ll blame me for that as well, it’s not like I was the one who stole all my money before shopping anyway-_ ” (Neil certainly had the tendency to ramble).

Vyvyan had turned his attention to Rick, now aware of the poet's presence.

“Morning poof!” Rick sighed at the punk's new favourite nickname for him. 

“Oh, yes, how original...I _don’t_ think.” Rick bit back, sounding more exhausted than anything. He looked up from the table at Vyvyan, deciding to return his greeting despite not exactly being happy about the nickname. Vyvyan let out a short, gruff, laugh when he finally got a proper look at the poet’s face.

“Bloody hell, you look terrible!” He laughed again. Rick let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t ask for your opinion, _Vyvyan._ ” Rick spat out the punk’s name with all the venom of a man who was well and truly exhausted. Even Vyvyan seemed a little surprised at how short Rick was being with him.

“I’m guessing you, like, didn’t sleep very well?” Neil decided to interject before this turned into a proper fight, pointing to the newly forming bags underneath Rick’s eyes. “I know how that feels man, I don’t get a lot of sleep, not that I, like, expect you to notice or care. No one does _and_ I still get forced to do all the cleaning around here and-”

Rick had tuned out Neil’s whining, choosing to only focus on the first part of his sentence. _By Cliff,_ had only one night of no sleep really wrecked his face that badly? Rick supposed he hadn’t looked in the mirror today but _still,_ he didn’t feel like this was awfully fair.

“Yes, alright, I didn’t sleep all that well. If you _must_ know.” Rick said, interrupting Neil’s spiel. Vyvyan looked intrigued. 

“I bet you were staying up all night reading dirty mags or something.” Vyvyan paused, enjoying the look of confusion and mild offence on Rick’s face. “I know all about your little _hiding_ spot and-” Rick all but threw himself at the punk to get him to stop talking. He muttered a quiet “ _bastard_ ” before setting the record straight.

“For your information _Vyvyan,_ I had a rather horrid dream and I couldn’t sleep after that.” Rick somehow managed to sound smug even when he hadn’t said anything particularly clever.

“Ooo-Oh” Vyvyan made a fake noise of interest. “Rickys been having nightmares” He teased. Rick was unsure of where that other nickname had come from but _ruddy hell._ Rick should have known better than to tell the truth to _Vyvyan._ “What girly thing did you have a nightmare about? Someone set fire to your sociology paper?” Rick didn’t have to have a bad dream about that, Vyvyan _had_ actually done that. “Or-” Vyvyan got a rather evil glint in his eyes, obviously a mischievous thought crossing his mind. “-Did someone catch you in _that_ girly dress?” Rick felt the descriptor of “girly” was unnecessary, the very nature of the thing implied it was girly but Rick was too preoccupied with panicking to get hung up on all the small details. 

“W-What?!” Rick spluttered. “ _I thought you’d forgotten about that._ ” Rick hissed before backtracking slightly. “I mean...no, uh-” Neil and Vyvyan watched, almost in wonder as Rick scrambled to figure out how to phrase his response, whether to look offended or act like he didn’t know what Vyvyan was talking about. He was currently attempting a weird mix of both. He quickly gave up though, frustrated. “Look, this entire thing is utterly _rwidiculous!_ It’s not ruddy well important.” He threw down his hands on the table. Vyvyan disagreed, it _was_ important but it was obvious Rick wasn’t going to spend any more time on it.

He did however, in his mad dash to regain the high ground, start a line of questioning that he was unsure on how to end. 

“It was _actually_ a really rather _terrible_ dream, thank you _Vyvyan._ ” Rick snorted very slightly, thinking that had shut him up. Vyvyan (naturally) pressed on. 

“What about?” Rick began to panic again, despite that being the logical next question.

“I-...er...w-well” Rick would have loved to tell Vyvyan _exactly_ what he’d dreamt about. How awfully caring and thoughtful he was that it had upset him so terribly, how - in fact - it was rather tough of him to dream about something so chaotic and obviously he had a _great_ imagination...but...well, he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come out, in fact even the _idea_ of really saying what he’d dreamt about made the back of his neck prick with fear. He wasn’t sure why he felt so utterly terrified at the prospect of just...talking but he was. Nevertheless, Vyvyan and Neil were expecting an answer. 

“-I don’t feel like talking about it, actually.” Rick ended rather lamely. Now _that_ was surprising to Vyvyan. Normally Rick would jump at any chance to be overdramatic so for him to give that up was...strange. Before Vyvyan could push Rick any further though, Mike (to Rick’s relief) joined them in the kitchen. 

“Morning, Mike!” Neil and Vyvyan said in unison. Mike nodded at them before turning to Rick, obviously expecting some sort of acknowledgment. Rick looked up at him, staring for a few seconds before realising what he was meant to be doing.

“Oh...hi Mike.” He waved, sounding less than enthusiastic. Mike peered over his sunglasses, observing Rick’s face.

“Now, Rick. The tired spirit may be a hungry one but it’s safe to say we don’t have much food, you need to sleep more.” He pointed out Rick’s bloodshot eyes, ignoring the confused looks all three of them gave him. Rick sighed, he was getting _very_ bloody sick of people pointing it out, if this was going to become a trend, he didn’t ruddy well want to be a part of it. He thanked Mike for his…”advice” and sighed, hoping someone would change the topic soon. He’d even listen to Neil over talking about his sleeping habits any longer.

Thankfully it didn’t take long for one of them to strike up a conversation with each other and Rick could tune it out. He felt himself drifting off ever so slightly, _god_ he was tired. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of _that_ dream. _Ruddy hell,_ he wanted this to be over. He felt completely potty for still obsessing over something that - in his opinion- was _stupid_. It’d be many hours since he’d woken up and he just still couldn’t shake that _fear_ that engulfed him anytime he thought about the dream for too long. Rick forced himself to tune back into the conversation, just to get his mind off it. 

“-Cause we haven’t got any _breadd._ ” Neil ended. They must have been talking about money, likely for grocery shopping considering Neil was involved.

“I have some spare…” Rick piped up before thinking about it too much. All three of them stared at him. Was Rick _seriously_ offering some of _his_ money? No one in the sharehouse _ever_ did that. Except Neil. Although Neil would argue (quite fairly as well) that he never strictly _offered_ it so much as was forced to give it up. 

“ _You_ have spare money?” Vyvyan finally asked. Rick nodded slowly. “Well then why have you been hiding this entire time, you bogey-bum?!” Vyv exclaimed. 

“For that exact reason, _bottom boil_ ” Rick returned the compliment. “I knew you’d twy to take it from me. So I’ve hid it.” Rick smiled smugly. Vyvyan took that as a challenge to _find it_. Before the punk could race off to tear Rick’s bedroom to shreds, the poet stopped him. “H-Hold on, I’ll put it forward as a sort of comunnial...thing...for the benefit of all house members.” _Bloody yeah, that’s prwetty right on of me!_ Neil certainly seemed relieved that they weren’t going to dive any more into his funds. The two others couldn’t find much wrong with that and agreed. 

Rick was paying for the shopping this time. How odd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again sorry about the wait (I feel as if this will be a trend...) Schools back and I'm also trying to manage a few other projects (and fics...will I ever stay on one task? :P) Still, I hope you enjoyed! :] (and that it was worth the wait).


End file.
